


The faint taste of tea...

by Toodles88



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 17:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15711960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toodles88/pseuds/Toodles88
Summary: Solas has come to claim Skyhold.Lavellan fails to stop him.





	The faint taste of tea...

**Author's Note:**

> I'm supposed to be writing a dissertation.  
> Instead, this happened because I am STILL in Solavellan hell!  
> I'm toying with writing an alternate ending or a Solas POV.  
> This is only the second thing I have ever written and published so happy to get some constructive criticism to help me improve potential future drabbles!

He had come. Just as she knew he would. Skyhold was never truly hers. Just like his heart. And now he was at her gates. Here to claim his fortress back. To tear the Veil down.

Months of planning and training, all brought down in a moment. His powers were greater than they had imagined, his army larger in number than they could anticipate.

Down in the courtyard amongst the smouldering debris of the once high gates of Skyhold, his Elvhen army fought, their armour and sharp blades glinting viciously in the morning sun. Her soldiers fought bravely, their faith in her and the cause unwavering. Cullen and Cassandra were fighting by their sides, boosting their morale. Sera and Varric up on the wall with the archers, firing bolts into the fray. Blackwall alongside Dorian, the Iron Bull and Cole were ordered to stay inside the main hall with reinforcements, should the fortress be breached.

It was. Too easily.

Inquisition soldiers fell one by one. His army was too large, too good in skill. They tore their way through, gaining ground fast. His purpose had become their cause, their hope. And it made them merciless.

Cassandra was cut down first. Ellana saw her from across the courtyard. She tried to yell at her, to warn her of the Elvhen soldier behind her. But Cassandra was surrounded, preoccupied with defending herself from the Elvhen in front of her. The sword tore clean through her chest. The blood dripping, angry and red off the protruding blade. Ellana’s cry was ragged as it tore from her throat. She saw the confusion flick across Cassandra’s features. Watched as the soldier kicked her off his blade. Ellana recklessly hurled spells at her foes. Her only thoughts were of getting to Cassandra.

As the last of them fell, she knelt at Cassandra’s side. She held her face tenderly, desperately searching her features. But death brought peace, and her expression was serene. Goodbyes were whispered along with promises. Promises of retribution. Of victory. Of her sacrifice not being for nothing. She knew her purpose and she would carry it out. She would not fail Cassandra again.

The first few Elvhen soldiers were already reaching the doors of the fortress. Varric, Sera and the Inquisitions archers picked them off from above. Cullen ran to head them off with what remained of her army. His sword was raised high, the sun glistening off his armour. He looked like an avenging angel and in that moment, Ellana marvelled at his beauty.

A huge explosion shook the ground beneath her, as stone was blown apart and across the courtyard. She covered her face, protecting herself as dust and rocks rained down. She was on the far side. She was safe. After a few moments, she looked towards Skyhold. The wall that held the archers was now a crumbling ruin. Varric. Sera. They were gone. Her heart clenched, and tears left tracks down her dust-covered cheeks.

Screams carried across the courtyard to her ears. Pained cries of her soldiers, trapped, crushed under the larger rocks that had been blown from the wall. The Elvhen had been safe, barriers summoned to protect them. Another reminder of his power.

Panic was settling in. Chaos surrounded her, and she felt as if she were drowning in it.

Cullen was freeing as many of his soldiers as he could. Attempting to get them to safety, to healers. He would not leave them pinned, defenceless. He would never leave them behind.

The explosion had brought down the main doors of Skyhold and now she watched as the Elvhen poured in. Her thoughts went to Dorian, her best friend. Her only source of comfort after Solas had left. The Iron Bull, Blackwall and Cole, her faithful companions over the years, never wavering in their devotion to her. She couldn’t lose any more of them. She was angry now. So bloody angry. How could he do this? As if they were nothing. As if she were nothing.

A feral rage she had never felt before began to take hold. Her jaw clenched. Her teeth were bared. She would end him. Protect her world. Her friends. Her people.

She picked up her staff and ran. With her focus renewed, she raced through the courtyard towards the keep, mercilessly ripping her way through any enemies that dared to block her path. She took the steps of Skyhold two at a time, her legs pumping, propelling her upwards. Lightning shot from her staff, jumping from one Elvhen soldier to another. It crackled and danced across their golden armour. She was a formidable Elementalist, and her wrath only served to heighten the effects of her spells. The smell of burning hair and meat began to permeate through the air.

At last, she reached the top. The soldiers that had been charged as the last line of defence, had already lost half their numbers. The rest were going down fast. They were just no match. She began to engage the nearest Elvhen soldier, fighting her way through the vast numbers of enemies in the main hall. But there were so many, and her mana was slowly draining away. She saw her companions and knew they were exhausted too.

At some point, Cullen must have joined the fray. Dorian’s concentration wavered for a second. Cullen shouted and ran to his aid, taking the force of the attack with his shield. But he was put off balance and couldn’t turn around in time. The Elvhen sword slashed from the crown of his head to his right hip. Cullen fell.

The world seemed to slow as she watched. Everything went silent around her. Her brave Commander. Her Lion. His golden eyes locked with hers as he lay bleeding out. Sadness was etched in his features as he took his final shuddering breaths.

Then someone was shouting. It was Blackwall. A warning? The sounds of battle swiftly returned to her and she came to her senses just in time. She cast her barrier just as the sword was coming down towards her face. Flames suddenly engulfed the Elvhen who wielded it. Dorian.

But they were only one of a larger number and two more instantly took their place. Inquisition soldiers fell until it was only herself and her companions left. She saw the Iron Bull, brought down by several Elvhen soldiers at once. She could swear he mouthed “sorry boss”, as sword after sword cut through his flesh. Blackwall fought valiantly to the last. Though bleeding out from several wounds, he would still get back up to fight. Until eventually, he couldn’t.

Then Cole. Sweet Cole. Ellana had never regretted making him more human, than the moment his throat was sliced open.

But she had no time to process. No time to grieve.

Alone, Dorian and herself fought, side by side. Their mana was drained but their resolve never waned. Eventually, they were surrounded. Outnumbered. No one was left. No one else would come. They had failed, and it tasted bitter, like ash in her mouth.

It happened quickly. Dorian lost his footing and his spell missed its target. The Elvhen soldier reached him, running him through. She watched, helpless as he fell. Too stunned to react. Apologies were laced on her lips. For letting him down. For letting him fall. For allowing all this to happen. They were never voiced.

It took her a moment to realise the pain that bloomed from her hip. Then her lower back. Then her shoulder. Everywhere. The pain crawled over her skin, burning in its wake. It swallowed her whole. Consumed her. Her vision blurred. Filled with despair and drained of all energy, she felt her knees give way. Suddenly the coolness of the stone floor against her cheek was all she could feel. The edges of her vision began to close in. Dark shapes retreating.

But death did not claim her immediately. Another cruelty, she thought. Her breathing was shallow and ragged. She felt cold, right through to her bones. She could make out Dorian not too far from her and with all the strength she had left, she managed to slowly reach out to him and place her hand in his. His skin was already growing cold and fresh tears fell from her eyes. She squeezed them shut in an effort to stop them. Tears wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t bring anyone back.

The hall had gone eerily quiet. A small piece of her was grateful for the peace. No more screams of pain or wails of grief. She could feel herself drifting as her blood slowly drained from her wounds. Her eyes fluttered closed. To slip away in the silence. It was a small mercy.

But then behind her, at the other end of the hall, footsteps broke through the quiet. The sound of metal on stone cutting through the hall, sharp and ringing. They grew closer, louder until the sound pained her. It set her teeth on edge and pulled her back from the brink.

The footsteps faltered for a second, then continued, a sense of urgency now in their pace as they approached behind her. She felt his presence, all too familiar and yet strange. Her auburn hair, caked with blood and mud, was brushed tenderly away from her face. She felt his arm shift underneath her dead weight, cradling her to him. A gauntleted hand turning her to face. She slowly opened her eyes.

Her Vhenan.

Solas.

And for a moment she felt relief. Safe, in his arms. He filled her vision. His finger wiped at the blood that dribbled from the corner of her mouth. She peered into his eyes, noticing how drawn and pale he was.

‘Vhenan’ she breathed.

Sadness lingered in his eyes as a small pitying smile played at his lips. She felt peaceful. Serene. How Cassandra had looked.

But then she remembered. Cassandra. Cullen. Blackwall and The Iron Bull. Varric and Sera. Cole. All dead. Gone. Dorian. A lump formed in her throat as a sob wracked her body. She remembered her hand in his and squeezed it. But it drew no comfort. It all came flooding back. What _he_ was here for. His purpose. And she had failed to stop him. Anger rose once again in her, boiling, frothing like seas in a storm. Consuming her. All her pain was forgotten, and she gripped Dorian’s hand tighter, grounding herself. Solas was no longer her Vhenan. He was a stranger. He was Fen’harel.

He must have sensed her change. His pained smile disappearing only to be replaced by overwhelming sorrow. “Ir abelas, Vhenan” he whispers. He knows. He can feel her anger. Her hatred. It rolls off her in waves. She realises that she wants him to. She wants him to feel ashamed.

With what little resolve she has left, she rasps weakly, “I doubt that, _Fen’harel_ ”. The last word she spits viciously, as it forms a bitter taste on her tongue.

“Could you not have heeded me Vhenan? Could you not have left me alone to do what I must? You could have lived peacefully”. His voice is accusing and her anger flares dangerously. That he would place the blame for their deaths on her shoulders. Like they would all have stood by and let the world burn. Without trying.

“Tel’abelas” she all but growls between gasps. How can she love him so much, yet hate him with every fibre of her being? Both emotions seemed to rage within her. Two fronts that collided and entwined together. One emotion twisting and counteracting the other. She had never felt so torn. So divided.

But she was dying, and her resolve quickly falters. Any remaining strength she had is gone. “I’m still trying to save you Solas”, she admits weakly, barely audible. It sounds pathetic to her own ears, but she could swear to the creators that there are tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“Ar lath ma, Vhenan” he whispers, “but I must fix my mistakes. You cannot change my course”. There is no hesitation in his statement. No room for doubt. His eyes cast downwards, avoiding her gaze. She wants to shake him. To shout at him, scream until her throat is raw. If he would only listen to her. If he would only set aside his damned pride. But she has nothing left and little breath with which to speak. If he had been willing to hear her pleas, he would have done so in the fade, every night he stalked her dreams.

Then suddenly his mouth is on hers. It’s chaste and sweet and oh so soft and all thoughts leave her. His tongue swipes across her lower lip and he tastes of tea. He always tasted of tea. 

But it's brief. His lips are gone too soon, and she feels empty. Colder than before. If that was at all possible.

“I’m sorry Ellana”, he repeats again, in common this time. It’s his way of making it sincerer, to her at least. It does nothing to soothe her ire or stop the turmoil within her heart, but she is grateful nonetheless. “I’m so sorry”, he whispers it again as he presses his forehead to hers. She never takes her eyes off him as he pulls away. He places her gently back onto the cold stone floor, now pooled with her blood.

The realisation hits her then, that he doesn’t plan to end her suffering. Not now, not directly at least.

“You coward” she manages to grind out at him. As he stands, she catches the shame that swims within his deep green eyes and feels some semblance of victory. How dare he just leave her to die. As if he sees her as deserving nothing more than dying slowly from her wounds. Like an animal.

But once again her feelings collide, countering her own thoughts. What if… he can’t, she reasons. Maybe he still loves her too much.

She isn’t sure which she prefers.

She sees them now, the tears flowing freely down his cheeks as he gives her one final look. A small sigh escapes his lips, pained and world-weary before he turns, leaving her behind. 

Once again, the sharp tap of metal on stone rings out through the chamber. They somehow sound heavier and she listens as they retreat. A door creaks open and she knows he has disappeared into his Rotunda.

All the adrenaline from seeing him leaves her. Pain begins to settle into every fibre of her being once more and bitter cold is gnawing at her bones. She lays there on her back, staring upwards. Sobbing. Broken.

The explosion earlier must have caused some of the ceiling to collapse she realises, because she can see the sky. And in that moment, she is grateful, because it’s beautiful. The brightest blue she has ever seen. It washes over her anger, calming her, and she wants to be lost in it. Wants to be enveloped by the vast deep blue of the sky…

Her vision begins to cloud again, and she feels so impossibly light. The urge to close her eyes is overwhelming and she doesn’t fight it. Her breaths are shallow and laboured. She thinks of her friends. Pictures their faces. Their smiles. Their laughter. Memories of each of them play through her mind, bringing her comfort.

As she releases a final breath, she remembers soft lips on hers and the faint taste of tea...

 

 

 

\--------------

**Translations:**

Vhenan - My heart

Ar lath ma - I love you

Ir abelas - I'm sorry

Tel'abelas - I'm not sorry

 


End file.
